


a lesson in manners

by fatal_drum



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Choking, Cunnilingus, Discipline, Dom Martin Blackwood, Dominant Bottom, M/M, Spanking, Sub Peter Lukas, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 14:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30107322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: Peter is easy to handle once Martin figures him out. For all his posturing and waxing poetic about his calling to the Lonely, Peter craves attention.Or maybe it’s justMartin’sattention. Martin isn’t cursed with overconfidence, but he knows he can’t be imagining Peter’s fixation. When they’re together, it’s as if no one else exists. Even when he’s pretending to ignore Martin, he still follows him out of the corners of his eyes, tilting his head to follow Martin’s voice as he bustles around the office and does all therealwork.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	a lesson in manners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cuttooth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttooth/gifts).



> A belated birthday present for Tooth. You are such a treasure! I love you! 
> 
> Many thanks to twodrunkencelestials for betaing!
> 
> Words used for Martin’s anatomy: cunt, cock, slit, folds

Peter is easy to handle once Martin figures him out. For all his posturing and waxing poetic about his calling to the Lonely, Peter craves attention. 

Or maybe it’s just  _ Martin’s  _ attention. Martin isn’t cursed with overconfidence, but he knows he can’t be imagining Peter’s fixation. When they’re together, it’s as if no one else exists. Even when he’s pretending to ignore Martin, he still follows him out of the corners of his eyes, tilting his head to follow Martin’s voice as he bustles around the office and does all the  _ real  _ work. 

What Peter needs is guidance, a firm hand and strict discipline. Fortunately, Martin is more than happy to provide those. 

He lets Peter play at being in control, lets him buy him clothes and pay for his flat and take him out to fancy dinners in empty restaurants, but once they’re in Martin’s flat, Peter knows the rules. 

“Strip,” Martin orders, sitting on his bed to watch the show. 

Peter swallows, lifting up the hem of his jumper and pulling it over his head. Martin drinks in the sight: his thick arms, his muscular chest with its scattering of gray hair, his soft belly. He isn’t surprised to see Peter’s already half-hard when he pulls down his trousers. He isn’t wearing anything under them. 

“You’ve wanted this all day, haven’t you?” Martin says, amused.  _ “Slut.” _

Peter shivers. “Yes, Martin. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Martin points to the floor. “Kneel.”

Peter obeys immediately, sending a thrill of possessive satisfaction through Martin. It doesn’t matter that Peter is taller and broader than him, that he has more money, that he could banish Martin into the Lonely as easily as he could kiss him. The fact is, Peter  _ wants _ to please him, and that gives Martin power over him. 

“You were rude to Rosie today,” Martin says sternly. “Why?”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone,” Peter says, looking peevish. 

Martin’s eyes narrow. “Peter, it’s her  _ job  _ to notify you of important events.”

“She can just send an email like everyone else.”

“You don’t even  _ read  _ your emails!”

Peter ducks his head, conceding the argument. They both know he barely touches his computer. 

“I’m going to have to punish you,” Martin says, reaching for the bedside table. “I’ll let you pick. The paddle, or the crop?”

“The—the paddle,” Peter says, his pale cheeks flushing slightly. Martin supposes it’s the disadvantage of spending all his time haunting the Lonely like a spooky bastard. 

Martin takes out his favorite leather paddle, weighing it in his hand. It feels reassuringly solid in his hand. “Good choice. Now, against the bed.”

Peter braces his hands against the bed, bending over and spreading his legs. Martin hums approvingly, running a gentle hand down Peter’s spine and watching him shiver. 

“You’re going to take ten,” Martin informs him, squeezing his arse. He digs his nails in slightly for emphasis. “And you’re going to count for me. Alright?”

“Yes, Martin,” Peter says. His breathing is already growing heavier. 

“Good boy,” Martin says approvingly. 

Then he brings the paddle down with a sharp  _ crack. _ Peter gasps, gripping the bedspread as he grunts, “One!”

Martin runs his hand over the pink welt forming on Peter’s fair skin. It’s warm, unlike the rest of his flesh. 

“You’re going to apologize to Rosie tomorrow,” Martin informs him, bringing the paddle down on the opposite cheek. 

“T-two!” Peter cries. “Yes, Martin.”

Martin rakes his nails against the abused skin, making Peter yelp. 

He would have found a reason to punish Peter even if he hadn’t snapped at Rosie. But the pretext is convenient, and he might as well teach Peter  _ some _ manners. 

“Honestly, this is barely a punishment for you, is it?” Martin says, slapping the padding against his inner thigh. “You love it when I hurt you.”

“Three!”

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” Martin snaps, smacking the opposite thigh. 

“Y-yes, Martin,” Peter whispers, shame-faced. “I...I like it.”

“You stopped counting,” Martin says with a smirk. “Looks like I’ll have to start over.”

Martin rains down blows on his arse and thighs until the skin is cherry red and hot to the touch. Peter obediently counts each blow, though his voice is shaking by the end. It’s easy to see why: his cock is rock-hard and dripping wet. The sight fills Martin with a rush of fierce pride.  _ He _ did that. 

"What am I going to do with you?" Martin demands, half sweet, half threatening.

Peter shudders. "Anything, Martin. Anything you want."

Martin runs a hand down Peter's spine. "That's what I like to hear. On your knees, in front of the bed."

Martin strips, letting his clothes fall to the floor. He'll make Peter clean them up later. When Martin settles on the bed, thighs spread teasingly, Peter swallows. He knows Peter can see his slick and swollen folds, his stiff pink cock rising from his hood. Peter loves eating him out, would do it for hours if Martin let him.

"Tell me what you want," Martin orders. 

"I want to taste you," Peter confesses. "God,  _ please, _ Martin…"

Martin reaches down to stroke his folds, trailing his finds through the wetness. Peter watches him like he’s the only source of water in the desert. "Why should I let you?" 

“I’ll make it good for you. I’ll do anything you want.  _ Please, _ I want to make you come...”

Martin takes his wet fingers and brushes them against Peter’s lips. Peter shudders, sucking them hungrily, his tongue brushing against the pads. 

“You really  _ are  _ desperate,” Martin says. Peter nods, pressing a kiss against Martin’s knuckles. “I should keep you under the desk, make you suck me off while I do all the  _ real  _ work.”

Peter leans forward, but Martin stops him with a harsh grip on his hair. 

“What do we say?” Martin asks archly. 

“Th-thank you, Martin.” 

“Good boy,” Martin says, releasing his grip on Peter’s hair. 

Peter immediately gets to work, kissing his way up Martin’s inner thighs until his nose brushes the neatly trimmed curls. He breathes deeply, eyes closing with pleasure as he gives his slit a long, slow lick.

Martin strokes his hair encouragingly. “If only you were as good at being a boss as you are at this.”

Peter moans, his breath cool against Martin’s cunt. His tongue dips inside, eagerly lapping up his wetness. Peter's expression is utterly blissful. 

"Maybe I shouldn't even hide you under the desk. Maybe I should let everyone  _ see _ what a slut you are."

Peter groans, fingers gripping Martin's hips. 

Martin is ready for more. He tugs Peter's hair until his mouth is positioned over his cock, and Peter takes the cue, sucking it between his lips until Martin's moaning and grinding against his face. 

"That's it," Martin encourages, arching his back as waves of pleasure travel up his spine. "You  _ can _ be good when you want to."

Peter flicks his tongue against the tip of Martin's cock, and Martin moans, arching into the contact. He’s fairly sure Peter has an oral fixation; he licks and sucks like it’s the only thing he wants in life. Martin grinds against his mouth, tugging cruelly on his hair, and Peter makes a contented noise. Martin can feel himself getting close. 

“Give me your fingers,” Martin orders, and Peter obediently slips two into his cunt, crooking them gently. Martin clenches around them, thighs clamping around Peter’s face. “Fuck—right there—”

Peter sucks hard on his cock, and Martin comes in spurts, gripping Peter's hair as he soaks his face. Peter licks him through it with gentle strokes of his tongue until Martin lets out an overstimulated gasp and pushes him away. 

Panting, Martin looks down at Peter. Peter's expression is vulnerable in a way it never is outside of bed. Martin suspects he has no idea how desperate he looks, how eager for his approval; otherwise, he’d never allow it to happen. He strokes Peter’s hair, watching his eyes slide shut in complete surrender. The sight makes his cunt pulse with heat. 

"Come here," Martin orders, pulling Peter by the hair. He scoots back on the bed until he's lying against the pillows, thighs spread demandingly. Peter takes the cue, draping his body over Martin's, his hard cock digging into Martin's thigh. 

Martin wraps his hand around Peter's erection, guiding it to his entrance. "If you even  _ think _ of coming without permission, I'll make you regret it."

Peter lets out a choked noise, gripping the sheets with white knuckles. He takes several deep breaths before he slowly slides into Martin. Martin gasps softly; the stretch is always a shock, his body never quite prepared for Peter's size, no matter how many times they do this. It takes several moments for him to bottom out, his pelvis flush with Martin's. Martin wriggles slightly, savoring the fullness. He’s probably going to be sore later. He likes it that way. 

"Good boy," Martin praises. “You can move now.”

Peter moves slowly at first, letting Martin adjust, before Martin wraps his legs around his waist, digging his heels in to spur him on. Peter takes the hint, hips moving faster, fucking Martin just the way he likes it. Martin’s hand trails up Peter’s chest to rest at his throat, an offer and a question. Peter swallows, tilting his head back in response. 

Martin squeezes, just hard enough for Peter to feel it. Peter’s hips stutter as he gasps, “M-martin—” 

_ “Harder,”  _ Martin urges, grinding his cock against Peter’s body. He can feel the tension building low in his abdomen, another orgasm on the horizon. 

Peter obeys, his thrusts rocking the bed with their force. Sweat drips from his brow, his face flushed as he works to please Martin, to earn his approval, to make him come. If Martin ordered him, he’d pull out the second Martin was satisfied, and go home wanting. Martin’s done it before. He’ll probably do it again sometime, if Peter misbehaves. 

Martin tightens his grip on Peter’s throat, watching his eyes widen as he struggles for air. He doesn’t stop pounding into Martin, doesn’t even slow down, more focused on Martin’s pleasure than his need to breathe. Peter’s hand slips between them, rubbing Martin’s cock in tight circles. 

“F-fuck, Peter—” Martin bites out, gripping Peter’s shoulders as he comes, clenching down on Peter’s cock. 

He releases his grip on Peter’s throat, and Peter gasps, “Please, Martin, I want—inside you—”

_ “Do it,”  _ Martin orders, and Peter lets out a low moan, burying his face in Martin’s shoulder. His cock twitches inside Martin as he fills him to the brim with come. 

They lie like that afterwards, Martin stroking Peter’s back idly as he savors the fullness inside him. It’s one of the few times Peter will let him touch him with any kindness. Peter’s weight pinning him down is surprisingly comforting. 

Later they’ll put on their clothes. Peter will go home, and Martin will go to bed. Then they’ll both go to work, where they’ll pretend things are exactly the same as always, for days, or even weeks, before one of them gives into temptation again. 

But for now, Martin is content, and Peter’s skin is warm to the touch. 


End file.
